


Happy Holidays

by Salazar101



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: M/M, Modern AU, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-04
Updated: 2010-12-04
Packaged: 2017-12-05 20:34:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salazar101/pseuds/Salazar101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malik gets to see some of Desmond's home videos</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Published December 4th 2010

Malik could easily admit his knowledge of American holidays was shaky, he'd only moved to the place recently and everything was still settling down. He'd moved from his home in Kuwait at the beginning of the summer to be with his lover Desmond and they shared a rented house near the city. Malik was quickly learning that Americans had holidays for fucking everything and Desmond almost lost his shit with excitement at every single one of them. During Fourth of July they'd almost burned down their house playing with some very illegal fireworks (Desmond assured him EVERYONE did it); and then for Mayflower Day ( _Mayflower Day_? For fucksake...) Desmond had insisted on making a cake and then drawing a ship on it on it. Not taking into account that neither of them could draw. They ended up with a cake covered in scribbles (it was delicious anyway).  
  
As Summer gave away to Fall Malik enjoyed watching the leaves in their neighborhood turn a brilliant orange, yellow, and red before falling to the ground and making an absolute mess all over the place. Desmond was torn on the leaves as during their evening walk he loved to jump on them like a child and make them crunch beneath his feet. Yet he hated to rake them out of their yard. Malik didn't care either way as he never had to do the raking since he only had one arm. Usually Malik never used this defense but raking up leaves really _did_ look miserable.  
  
Desmond's ability to get excited over seemingly trivial American holidays never ceased to amuse Malik, or irritate him based on just how off the wall Desmond was being at the time. Once October hit Malik could practically hear Desmond's engine revving for Halloween at the end of the month. Since neither of them were kids, nor did they have any friends in the area yet, Malik was uncertain what Desmond had to get excited about. As if Desmond ever needed a reason to be excited about something.   
  
When Halloween finally hit Malik awoke to find Desmond's side of the bed already empty. Sighing he got up and got dressed, did some of his work-from-home programming, and then went out to buy a bag of candy to give out to the children in their neighborhood. Still Desmond had not returned. Desmond did have a habit of just disappearing sometimes so Malik thought little of it and settled down on the couch with his candy and watched a movie, snacking on the little treats without thinking about it.  
  
When Desmond did arrive he almost tripped over his own feet in his excitement at entering their house, "Where have you been?" Malik had asked, popping a tiny Twix into his mouth and crunching down on it.  
  
"Getting us costumes!" Desmond vaulted over the back of the couch with a bag in his hand and bounced onto the couch cushions, sending the candy flying off onto the floor.  
  
"Hey!" Malik had gone to pick it up when Desmond and pulled him back with a wicked grin on his face.  
  
"Buy all that candy for yourself?"  
  
"What? No! Isn't this what you American's do, give candy to children tonight?"  
  
Desmond had rolled his eyes, "That's what other people will do, we're turning off our porch light, going back to our bedroom, and fucking the night away!"  
  
"I...wait...what?"  
  
"Look at what I got, heh heh heh," Desmond's face had been beyond perverted as he opened up the bag and showed Malik the costumes he'd picked up.  
  
Malik blushed as he looked into the bag, "Oh my..."  
  
So Halloween had pretty much been Malik's favorite holiday so far as it didn't involve getting sick on cake or setting fire to the house.  
  
As soon as Halloween passed (the costumes buried in their closet) the weather got frightfully cold very quickly. Malik had grown up in a very hot environment and he'd never seen snow in person before. At first he'd been excited at their first dusting, going out with Desmond to have a snowball fight. The freezing cold soon convinced him that snow was evil. Also he found himself incapable of driving in it and Desmond had to take him everywhere. Embarrassing.  
  
Malik could already tell Desmond was getting excited for another holiday, he figured it was Christmas. Drinking a steaming hot mug of hot cocoa (with tiny marshmallows floating inside it, a new guilty pleasure for Malik) he asked Desmond what he wanted for Christmas.  
  
"Christmas?!" Desmond looked at him weird and then laughed, "It's not even Thanksgiving yet, Mal, don't talk about Christmas yet!"  
  
Malik glared over the rim of his hot cocoa, "What? Thanksgiving? I do not see an commercials for that...did you make this one up, Desmond?"  
  
Desmond snorted, "No, I did not...these days Christmas always starts too early, right after Halloween...but we shouldn't forget Thanksgiving! It's important too!"  
  
"You said Mayflower Day was important," snipped Malik, not liking being reminded of the fact that he never celebrated these things in Kuwait and didn't know jack shit about them.  
  
"Yeah...well...um...it is...in it's own way..." Desmond scratched the back of his head and Malik's heart softened as he watched him squirm. Allah he loved this man so much. Setting aside his drink Malik moved over to press Desmond against the kitchen counter with his body, arm wrapping around the slightly smaller man.  
  
"So...tell me all about this Thanksgiving," smiled Malik, pressing butterfly kisses along Desmond's jaw and across the bridge of his nose.  
  
Desmond grinned and leaned into him, "We eat a lot and spend time being thankful."  
  
Malik gave him a narrow look, "Are you making this up?"  
  
"No!" Desmond punched him lightly in the shoulder, "Maybe I should just point you to an internet articl- OH!" Malik jumped at Desmond's yell, "I know!"  
  
"What?" Malik pulled back a little looking unsure, "What?"  
  
"When I was a kid I was in a Thanksgiving play! I'll show you the video!" Desmond hurriedly pushed away from Malik and ran out of the kitchen and down the hallway to their rec room.  
  
"...What?" said Malik, standing alone and confused in the kitchen.  
  
Desmond ran back down the hallway clutching a canvas CD holder, "Malik come on!" he ran into the living room.  
  
Malik shrugged, finished off his cocoa, and meandered into the livingroom to find Desmond kneeling on the floor beside their DVD player and flipping through a collection of labeled DVDs, "What's all that?" he asked, taking a seat on the couch.  
  
"Oh...well..." Desmond looked a little embarrassed, "My mom got a program that let her burn all our home videos onto DVD and she gave me some copies..."  
  
"Why haven't I seen thes-" started Malik, eyes narrowing, when Desmond interrupted him with a slightly desperate sounding yell.  
  
"OH LOOK I FOUND IT, HA HA HA HA," with rather high pitched laughter he pulled out the DVD and stuck it in the player, "Thanksgiving '92," he said, backing up from the player and over the coffee table to sit next to Malik and cuddle up next to him.  
  
Malik placed his arm around Desmond's waist and rested his cheek against the top of his head, eyes trained on their TV as a shaky camcorder recording with the swelling and dimming sound appeared on their screen. Off camera came the sound of what had to be Desmond's mother and father talking.  
  
"It's about to start!" squealed Desmond's mother.  
  
"You gonna watch the whole play through that bloody fish eye lens?" the gruff voice of his father.  
  
"Shhh!" hissed his mother as the lights dimmed and the curtains parted. Malik spotted a woman on a piano in the corner as opening music started up.  
  
Lined up on stage were about fifteen small children all dressed in ridiculous costumes. Malik snorted and Desmond prodded him roughly and shushed him, sounding very much like his mother. One child walked up to the front stage with stiff knee steps before stopping to stare at the audience, looking a little lost. After an awkward pause with people in the audience tittering and going 'awww' he began a stilted and halting speech.  
  
"Pilgrums...um..." he fidgeted in his black coat, "...Land in Americuh...um...and meet the Indiuhns!"  
  
He began to pick his nose as another child trot up to stand beside him, this one wearing a pair of brown pants and a headband with a feather in it, "I YAM AN INJUN!" he screamed directly into the microphone.  
  
"I see racial sensitivity wasn't something you learned in school-OUCH!" Malik winced as Desmond elbowed him.  
  
"Shhh!"  
  
"God that Jenkins kid is fucking retarded," muttered Desmond's father.  
  
"Shhhh!" spat his mother, camera shaking as he did something that made her husband yelp with pain.  
  
Between all the elbowing past and present Malik missed a little of what happened next. However by the time he looked back a bunch of the fancy kids, the "Pilgrums", were all on one corner of the stage making a big show of shivering and suffering, while all the "Injuns" stood on another side of the stage...just...sort of milling about. Malik wasn't sure what this was illustrating except that Americans had weird fucking holidays. Desmond was snuggled quite comfortably against him though, so Malik couldn't really complain. Though he was wondering where his lover was. Desmond didn't seem to be either of the current stereotypes on stage.  
  
"WE MUST HELP THEM!" screamed the "retarded Jenkins kid" as the Pilgrims shifted about and looked miserable.  
  
"We...will...bring...them...food...and...shel...ter..." said one little girl Indian in such a halting shy voice that Malik could hardly understand her.  
  
"Awww, isn't that little Sally cute?" cooed Desmond's mother.  
  
"Meh," said his father, "Not as cute as her mother, yowza the rack on that woman-OUCH!"  
  
Malik was shaking with repressed laughter, Desmond refused to meet his eye.  
  
So all the Indians grabbed a counter-part Pilgrim and led them all over to a big table that had been sitting behind them the whole time, covered in festive items made of red, yellow, and orange construction paper. Desmond tugged on his dark blue shirt and whispered excitedly, "Here I come!"  
  
"LET US EAT THIS TURKEY TOGETHER AS FRIENDS!" screeched Jenkins at the top of his not inconsiderable lungs.  
  
Out stalked a little Desmond wearing a pair of tights drawn on to look like turkey legs, a belt with big construction paper feathers flared out the back, and some kind of crazy looking _vaguely turkey inspired_ hat. Malik wheezed with more repressed laughter.  
  
"EAT...me...AND...." little Desmond wavered between screaming and whispering, one hand held out before him and little chest puffed out with authority, "...know of...your...FRIENDSHIP...!" he stood on the stage for an awkward amount of time, spotting his mother and father and waving enthusiasticly right at the camera. A teacher hissed at him from the bottom of the stage and he stared down at her while chewing cow-like on his own sleeve.  
  
Getting the idea that he was supposed to do more, little Desmond turned around and jogged up onto the table, paper feathers rustling behind him, "EAT meeeee!" he squeaked before curling up on the table and shaking his feathers.  
  
It was too much for him, Malik broke down positively crying with laughter. Desmond nudged him halfheartedly, blushing so bright he looked like he was about to catch fire, "H-hey!" he muttered, moving as if to get away from Malik's laughter.  
  
Malik quickly wrapped his one arm around Desmond's waist and pulled him close again, pressing wet kisses over his cheek and neck, making the younger squirm and laugh a little, "You were an adorable kid," said Malik as soon as he could talk, blinking the tears from his eyes as he rested his forehead against Desmond's. In the background the play continued for a bit before shifting straight to a silent blue screen, "But is that REALLY what your Thanksgiving is about? Sugercoating genocide?"  
  
Desmond shook his head lightly and looked down at his own lap, "Well...it used to be, that's what we were taught in school but..." he glanced up at Malik shyly, "I just like to celebrate a day where...I take time to think about what I'm really really thankful for...it's not really about the food or all that...other stuff...for me..."  
  
"Oh?" asked Malik softly, hand moving to cup the side of Desmond's face, thumb brushing back and forth over his cheek, "And what are you thankful for this year?"  
  
Desmond looked at him almost nervously, "Well...you."  
  
Malik was silent, still stroking his thumb over Desmond's cheek. He had never in his entire life loved someone as much as he loved Desmond, "Des..." he said quietly, nuzzling against him softly, "I don't need a holiday to think about what I'm thankful for...every single day I wake up with you beside me, everyday we walk together, everyday you make me laugh and cry, happy and sad, joyful and angry...everyday I'm thankful for you...I love you."  
  
Desmond was tearing up, he sniffed lightly and covered Malik's hand with his own, "You've always been better with words than I am...I love you too, Mal..."  
  
"I know," whispered Malik, pressing a kiss under each of Desmond's eyes and then on the end of his nose, "Happy Holidays, Desmond, I'll love each of them as long as I'm celebrating them with you."  
  
Desmond leaned into Malik's chest and wrapped his arms tightly around him. Malik was thinking about taking things further when the screen jumped and another video popped on screen. Desmond, even younger than in the play, splashed naked and screaming in a tub.  
  
"MOMMY I AM PEEING IN THE TUB EEEEEEE!"  
  
Malik roared with laughter and Desmond barked his shin on the coffee table and face planted on the floor in his haste to turn it off.  
  
Happy Holidays indeed.


End file.
